The Evil in Her Eyes
by Catherine Benson
Summary: Post Locard's Exchange. Chapter 2 Added.
1. Chapter 1

She walked briskly down the hallway, unable and unwilling to look back at the man she had left. She didn't need this right now, not when she was finally beginning to get her life back in order. She pressed the elevator button and waited, wrapping her arms around her midsection in a futile attempt to keep away both her demons and her tears.

She had killed a man. Moreover, he had intended to kill her. If he had gotten his way, she would be on a slab in Garret's morgue instead of standing and waiting for his elevator.

She jumped and reached to her hip for her gun when she heard the ding of the elevator, an instinctual reaction that shamed and frightened her. She pulled her hand away before making contact with her weapon and sighed, allowing her shoulders to sag as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the main floor. She was so tired. All she wanted to now was to go home and drown herself in a bottle of scotch and the scent of her infant sons' head.

She would do anything to erase the past several days, starting from the moment she saw Garret wearing her tie until tonight when she almost died at the hands of the man she had worked so hard to put away.

She had always known that her job was dangerous, but she hadn't quite realized the extent of the danger until she was told she had evil in her eyes. Until she was thrown from her car and until a man looked at her with the purest hate she had ever seen.

She stepped out of the elevator and walked quickly towards the door, the parking lot, and her car. She didn't want to stop to think about what had happened to her. She didn't want to remember that Emmett Parker had been in the same parking lot, waiting for her to emerge so he could have his way with her. She didn't want to think about the fact that he had grabbed her when she was in her car, when she felt safe. She didn't want to feel the fear that was creeping up her spine and becoming more intense with every step she took.

She tried to rationalize with herself. She was a relatively logical person after all. She reminded herself that the chances of two attacks in one night were a million to one, at least, and that she really had nothing to worry about. Even if there was something lurking in the bushes, she was armed and she had already proven that she wasn't afraid to pull the trigger. She reached to her hip for reassurance and stopped walking when she found nothing. Her heart began to pound. She didn't have her gun. Woody had taken if after the shooting. She wouldn't get it back until the police cleared her and declared Parkers' death a justifiable homicide.

She didn't have her gun. She didn't have anything to protect her. If one of Parkers' murderer buddies showed up, she'd be dead. Like she almost died earlier that evening. Her son wouldn't have a mother, he'd go into foster care before his father would take him. She would be dead, raped, beaten, maimed. He would hurt her again, drag her into the alley and rip off her clothes. He'd beat her and smack her and force himself upon her. She would cream and no one would listen. No one was there. No one was ever there. She was helpless, weak, defenseless, prey to anything she might encounter. Weak and helpless.

She began to jog across the parking lot, her heart pounding her and her mind filled with images of the attack. His eyes as he hovered over, his grip on her hair, her blouse as he dragged her, kicked her, shoved her into the alley. The knife. It caught the moonlight so well, it shined and she could see it gleaming. She knew what was going to happen to her.

Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, she saw him. Evil. Absolute evil.

She reached her car and threw open the door, shoving the key into the ignition. She had to get home. She locked the car doors and glanced in the back seat to make sure she didn't have any unexpected company. She heaved a sigh of relief when she realized that she was alone, both in her car and in the parking lot. The only other car was Garrets' piece of trash and she was fairly certain that she didn't have to worry about him raping and stabbing her.

She breathed deeply and turned on the radio. She didn't need silence right now. Throwing the car into drive, she tried to focus on the music, on the violins and the cellos and the soprano's haunting melody. It soothed her. Classical music always could. There was something about it that lessened her fear, something that lowered her blood pressure and calmed her breathing. She was alive. Parker wasn't. She was safe, and he was off the streets. There was some semblance of justice in the nights' events.


	2. Chapter 2

When she arrived at her apartment, her sons' nanny, Melissa, pulled her into a tight hug, mumbling about how afraid she had been and how glad she was to see that Renee was okay. It had been all over the news, she had said, the shooting, rumors about her involvement, the attempt on her life. In the three hour timeframe since she had pulled her gun on Emmett Parker, Boston's reporters had picked up on the story. They were, if anything, on the ball. Or they had gotten a tip from within the morgue. Renee would put her money on one of the new temps Garret had hired, since Emy was going back to school to get a degree in something or another.

"I'm fine, really, Melissa. I'm not looking forward to dealing with the press tomorrow, but otherwise, I'll be fine." She smiled as reassuringly as she could and laid a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, hoping to ease her distress. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded and, kissing Renee on the cheek, exited.

Watching the girl leave, she sighed. She set her purse on the kitchen table and toed off her shoes. She would put them away when she woke up. She ambled down the hallway toward her bedroom, nearly tripping over one of her son's toys. She bent down and picked up the stuffed monkey, examining it with a sad smile. She opened the door to his room and entered, careful not to make too much noise. He was a light sleeper and she didn't have the energy to deal with a fussy baby at the moment.

He looked so calm, so peaceful. As though nothing in the world affected him. He didn't know that his mother had almost died earlier that night. He didn't know that there were bad people in the world. He didn't know about murder or rape or heartbreak. He was so innocent, so perfectly untouched by the world and the evils in it. When she looked at him, lying in his crib, smiling and drooling, everything was okay.

She placed the stuffed animal next to him in his crib, caressing his head before leaving the room.

She chuckled briefly at what she had become as she dragged herself into her bedroom. A year and a half ago, the sight of a beaten up, balding monkey that had obviously suffered from too much baby-love and the beginnings of teething wouldn't have had any effect on her. But now she melted into a puddle of decidedly unprofessional goo because it reminded her of her son.

She had never really pictured herself with children, even when she was one. Her friends had always wanted the romance, the husband, the kids, the white picket fence.

She hadn't. Renee had wanted a career. She had wanted to put away the bad guys, to find justice for the victims, to please her father by becoming a lawyer like he was. She hadn't wanted kids. They were never in the picture. She figured that if she wanted to be successful, then some things would have to be sacrificed.

When Eddie told her that he wanted children, she was floored. They had decided, before they had gotten married, that neither of them wanted a family and that their respective careers didn't quite lend to the demands of parenting. But he changed his mind, and so they tried to conceive, despite her misgivings about her abilities as a mother. She was young and in love and would have done anything to make him happy, even if it meant giving up her career to raise a child. When five years had gone by and he still didn't have a child, Eddie had left, and Renee had been heartbroken. But she buried herself in her work, became the DA of Suffolk County and never thought about children again.

And now, ten years later, she had a son that she hadn't asked for, but that she treasured. It was strange how things had worked out. She suspected that Matthew had softened her, gotten rid of some of her "tough-guy" shell. She tried to separate her two personas- mother and lawyer, but there were times when she saw them overlap, when she treated a witness like a child or her son like a witness. It was inevitable, she supposed, but she still never thought it would be her.

She gave a slight shake of her head at the irony of it all- that one casual night with Eddie brought her the one thing that they had tried for years to achieve, the thing that had eventually put distance between them, the thing that had caused him to leave her. But it didn't matter anymore, not really. She had a son whom she loved desperately and she was doing just fine on her own. She had Melissa to help her out on weekdays and she had the numbers of a couple of highly regarded daycares in the event of a case invading her weekend. She spent time with Matthew, as much as she could, and he appeared to be a happy, healthy child.

Her father had worried about her status as a single mother. When she told him of the pregnancy, he had looked at her the way he always did when he was disappointed in her and had shaken his head. "Are you going to get rid of it?" he had asked her, going on to say that a child shouldn't grow up without a father. He went on to tell her that she should marry the father so her child wouldn't be born out of wedlock, so she wouldn't tarnish the family name. They had fought that night, like they hadn't fought in years, and he had sent Renee away from his home on the verge of tears.

But despite everything, she had done okay. Her son was fed, changed, and played with on a regular basis. He smiled and laughed a lot and was just starting to sleep through the night. She worried sometimes, though. She knew what it was like to grow up without a parent, and she knew that her son would have questions about who his father was and why he wasn't around. She knew that one day she would answer them, although she didn't quite know how yet. Does she tell him that his father didn't want anything to do with him? Does she tell him that he was an accident?

Pushing it out of her mind, she undressed quickly and got into bed, feeling the exhaustion take over her worn body. She flipped on the television out of habit- she made a point to watch the news before bed so she wouldn't be too surprised at whatever fell on her desk the next morning. But she wasn't prepared for the image that popped up on her screen; she hadn't expected to see Garret's face looking back at her.

"The Medical Examiners' office does not wish to comment at this time." He attempted to push past a couple of reporters, but a large camera man blocked his path. By the looks of it, he was in the morgue parking lot and trying to get to his car.

"What about District Attorney Renee Walcott?" asked a blonde reporter, shoving a microphone in Garret's face. "Is it true she was involved in the shooting?"

"No comment. Look, you might as well go home. I'm not going to say anything further."

"Dr. Macy-"

She turned off the TV and laid back in her bed. God, what a mess. And now Garret was involved with the media, and she knew he didn't need this now any more than she did. He had looked so tired when she saw him, so worn down. Sad, even. And still the same son of a bitch he had always been. She smiled a little, and then grimaced, realizing that she'd have to deal with him on a frequent basis until this whole Parker thing was wrapped up in a nice red bow. She really didn't need to deal with Garret now, not when she was finally beginning to figure her life out. She knew that the minute he reentered her life, he'd turn it upside down. And she didn't need that, didn't want it.

He had tried to hold her tonight, to reassure her after she had shot Parker, but she pulled away, doing everything she could to make a graceful exit, to keep her composure. She hoped that he understood that she couldn't allow herself to be held by him; she hoped he knew that doing so would have put her over the edge, would have been the straw to break the proverbial camel's back. Had she accepted his embrace, she wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears, and she couldn't bear to cry in front of him. She had already lost his affection; she didn't need to lose his respect as well.

She turned to her side and reset her alarm clock. She didn't need to think about him now. She didn't need to think about anything. Reaching into the drawer of her bedside table, she pulled out a bottle and retrieved two sleeping pills. Tossing them into her mouth and forgoing a glass of water, she swallowed and laid her head back on her pillow, anticipating a night filled with nightmares and a morning filled with much of the same.


End file.
